


John, that child hates us!

by Icanwritesee



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Attempt at humour, F/M, M/M, Parentlock sort of, Sherlock Holmes and kids, but at least they have fun :3, they're both shit at babysitting let's face it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-26
Updated: 2016-01-21
Packaged: 2018-05-09 12:20:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5539760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Icanwritesee/pseuds/Icanwritesee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John had to remind himself of breathing because there was a baby in their sitting room that <i>accidentally</i> had Sherlock's eyes, and was probably around 6 months old which <i>accidentally</i> collided with <i>the Woman period</i> at Baker Street.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [modbees](https://archiveofourown.org/users/modbees/gifts).



> in which John hates Sherlock, but just for a little while.

years spent around Mycroft made him believe that loneliness was fine in the long run; that he shouldn't expect anything more because anything more could easily hurt him. at the beginning, Sherlock didn't really believe him; not until Victor at least. Victor was... the worst misjudgement of his life, and he shut his feelings among all the rubbish in some distant room of his mind palace just to be sure he would _never_ repeat that mistake.  
but, as it happened, life had other plans because years after catastrophe called Victor Trevor, Sherlock Holmes met John Watson through a mutual friend.

*

bedroom echoed with the sounds of soft rustling of the Egyptian cotton sheets and for a moment, John thought it was what pulled him from the state of half-sleep he was floating in. that, or the gorgeous source of warmth snuggled close to him. John could feel his face instantly pulling into a dopey smile at the sight of sleepy head he was sharing bed with. John ran his hand through rich curls on his head and received rich growl from the back of detective's throat that should be illegal at this time of day. not to mention his pale skin that sunrays made practically _glow_.  
\- um... Sherlock, love? you plannin' to let go of me anytime soon?  
Sherlock answered noncomittally. of course. always the git.  
\- I need to go to loo - he whined, feeling the unpleasant pull at his full bladder. after very long and dramatical sigh that seemed to be Sherlock's speciality, he mercifully let him use the loo.  
John didn't waste anymore time and relieved himself; quickly washing and drying his hands, he was more than ready to come back to bed and his very clingy boyfriend, when he heard the unknown sound for the second time in the last 15 minutes.  
he curiously poked his head out of the bathroom and realized that their sitting room in a secret circumstances now contained some kind of basket that kept rocking just a bit.  
John gently approached the basked and the moment he saw brilliant blue eyes looking up at him, was the moment he nearly fell over.  
\- Sh-Sherlock? could you just... - he heard himself calling with strangled voice, not able to tear eyes off the baby. - co-could you come here for a moment?  
\- what is it that you want, John?  
judging by his _bored_ tone, Sherlock wasn't intending to leave his coccoon. John could practically _see_ his epic eyeroll.  
\- just...  
\- John?  
John had to remind himself of breathing because there was a baby in their sitting room that _accidentally_ had Sherlock's eyes, and was probably around 6 months old which _accidentally_ collided with _the Woman period_ at Baker Street.  
\- I swear to God, if you got me out of bed without a proper reason, I'm going to burn your favourite jumper... oh.  
he felt anger coming off of him in waves.  
\- oh, indeed.  
uncomfortable silence settled between both men while the baby boy giggled happily.  
\- I don't understand.  
\- what is it there to understand, Sherlock? there's a baby in our sitting room that seems to be _yours_.  
\- but...  
\- ...I'm no genius, but had enough classes on genetics to know that blue eyes is a recessive feature...  
\- that is not my child, John! be reasonable!  
\- oh, I am perfectly reasonable!  
\- just how am I supposed to father a child when I didn't have an intercourse with a female since I was 18 years old, tell me?  
\- I don't know, maybe you went to a sperm bank!  
at that remark, Sherlock just outright _laughed_ , rising John's rage level into infinity. without a word, he bent over the basket and picked up something white that looked a lot like envelope. quick glance told him that it was addressed to both of them.  
\- _dear boys, meet Hamish. no worries, Johnny boy, your beau had nothing to do with that. the thing is, this time I've managed to piss off more people than when we met and I need to vanish for a month or so. I'll let you know._  
\- WHAT?!  
\- there are also two postscriptums: _I think you'll have to change his nappy by the time you read my letter_ and _do naughty things to Sherlock from me._  
\- my life's a joke...  
  
*  
  
the next eight hours full of wailing, curses and endless frustration on both ends proved to be _very_ hellish.  
\- John, that child hates us - Sherlock flopped down on the couch with a monstruous whine while John fruitlessly fought his growing annoyance.  
\- maybe he wouldn't _hate_ us if you could give me a hand with feeding? - John sighed one of his long-suffering sighs that one couldn't help but adaptate when living with Sherlock Holmes.  
Sherlock shrugged. John, having had enough of his shit, picked up the damn spoon, took a bit of apple mousse and aimed at the sulking detective's face. apple bullet landed precisely between Sherlock's eyes with a satisfying splat, effectively shutting down any arrogant thing Sherlock planned to answer with.  
\- did you just threw apple mousse at me?  
\- Hamish told me to do it - John only smirked in response.  
\- oh, you!  
before he realized it, Sherlock tackled him to the floor using rugby move. while lying on top of giggling John, he looked so damn smug John couldn't help but softly kiss.  
\- mmm... never do that again, you hear me? - Sherlock's anger just crumbled to pieces, and he leaned a bit more down to kiss back. - mm... nothing on... my face...  
\- not even my lips?  
\- oh, um... that. always.  
their moment broke new voice in the room.  
\- I'll just take my son then before you get off in front of him, shall I?

 


	2. shut up, you leech.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> exactly 24 hours after their first meeting, Sherlock already knew he wanted to keep seducing John Watson until taking his last breath on Earth.  
> 3 days, 20 hours and 45 minutes after their first meeting and truly spectacular orgasm, Sherlock knew it would be _John_ who would keep seducing him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't intend to write sequel for this one, but then I started to write and... this sort of happened.  
> but, seriously. what wonders me the most, is why I always write John so damn smooth. WHY. why I manage to make him SO DAMN CHEEKY.  
> also, don't leave your baby with our boys, or leave it when they're both unable to make the other moan. just sayin'.
> 
> enjoy. words cannot describe how much I love every single one of you.

Sherlock made sure to be heard when he whined about carrying the baby while John went to change his clothes into those without apple. Irene sat in the gray armchair, gently sipping her tea and watching the detective from underneath her eyelashes.  
\- what exactly are you looking at, Hamish? - Sherlock asked in baby's general direction when the boy kept observing him the way only children can.  
\- don't worry, princess. only browsing - Irene smirked at him. - knows what's good from the beginning.  
\- shut up, you leech - he hissed and watched with satisfaction how her slim face contorted with a hint of distaste. she managed to hide it behind her usual mask of indifference, but not fast enough for Sherlock not to see right through her pose. - you will no longer use us as you see fit to babysit your child anytime you piss off someone powerful enough to go after you, understood?  
\- why are you so _tense_ about it, darling? it shouldn't take more than few months...  
her purr, so full of attraction-that-shouldn't-be-there-anymore-but-somehow-still-was, struck some deeply-hidden nerve that Sherlock didn't even know existed. he felt himself clenching his hands into tight fists in frustration, and his feet started to make him pace around their sitting room like countless times before. the Woman observed him from underneath her eyelashes. _always aiming at seductive, but never successful._  
\- there's other reason - she suddenly stated, not louder than merely a whisper. - other than not being good with children... what is it?  
\- sod off - he spat, but before he even finished the sentence, Irene tutted at his wording.  
\- such pretty mouth with such dirty talk...  
Sherlock let out a deep growl, he should've known reasoning with her was fruitless.

*  
Sherlock wasn't sentimental. he also didn't tend to think about anniversaries in general because once you've start, there's always that nagging thought at the back of your mind that you don't have someone to have anniversaries with. and so he quickly stopped celebrating his birthday - there was simply no point in counting the times spring came after winter every year. being around Victor made him think about changing that habit, though. but then it turned out that Victor was only interested in sex and mixing various recreational substances, not something as trivial as _anniversaries_.  
Sherlock found himself dangerously attracted to that for some time, too. his brother, hovewer, didn't share their interest, but sent him to rehab instead. which was awfully dull and predictable, but helped Sherlock see Victor for what he was, and he didn't like what that strange _weakness_ did to him, so Sherlock decided to never engage in it again.  
then life brought him small army doctor with broken body that somehow helped him see the colours.  
exactly 24 hours after their first meeting, Sherlock already knew he wanted to keep seducing John Watson until taking his last breath on Earth.  
3 days, 20 hours and 45 minutes after their first meeting and truly spectacular orgasm, Sherlock knew it would be _John_ who would keep seducing him.  
*  
as if sensing the change of air in the room, John chose that precise moment to leave the bathroom with his blue towel snuggly wrapped around his narrow waist, and Sherlock could tell the view made all of his own blood go directly south while John casually put the kettle on for his morning tea. Sherlock swallowed thickly, not being able to tear his eyes off from a single drop marching down the good doctor's tanned neck. the drop stilled at his collarbone, making Sherlock's pants a bit tight. John only raised his calm eyes at him and _smiled_ , effectively shutting off his monstruous brain.  
he tried to clear his throat in order to get a grip, but it was painfully dry. _hopeless_.  
John looked him right in the eye, reading his body language spot-on, like he always did. but instead of acting on that knowledge, he chose to pass Sherlock on his way to their bedroom. then he did something that positively made Sherlock's neurons short-circuit because he _dropped his towel on the floor and marched starkers to their room._  
\- I'm sorry... - Sherlock heard himself saying. - there's been some important... progress...  
\- yeah, I know you've got a boner to take care of - Irene only waved dismissively her elegant hand. - we'll be...  
Sherlock got to the bedroom before she even finished saying whatever it was she was babbling.

*

some time after the mindblowing sex, John found himself drawing silly patterns on Sherlock's back. the detective himself was currently draped over his still heaving chest and mumbled contentedly something dangerously similar to periodic table. John watched him in wonderment, not capable to hide his profound admiration for this unique person beside him that somehow became the very center of his own solar system.  
\- boys, I need to go back to my bolt hole before someone notices I sneaked out in the first place - Irene opened the bedroom door and declared calmly like the view was nothing new to her. she smiled fractionally, staring unashamedly at Sherlock's body. John snarled loudly, covering his boyfriend's naked arse. Irene's smile faltered a bit, putting John's wild animal side at ease for the time being.  
\- leave the baby and sod off - Sherlock murmured sleepily before John opened his lips to say anything. - we'll take care of him for now, but for no longer than by the end of the month. after that, we'll call you to take it and that would be over. am I clear?  
Irene nodded. for the first time in her life, she looked... humble despite Sherlock not raising his voice.  
\- what he meant to say, was goodbye, Irene - John chipped in. - we don't want to see you here earlier than in the next century.  
\- very well... goodbye, Mr Holmes. Doctor Watson...  
Sherlock waited until they both heard the sound of closing the door before he spoke.  
\- that was very arousing, Doctor Watson...  
\- yeah, I know - John smiled smugly and pulled the brunette in for passionate kiss. - happy anniversary, love.

*

an early evening met both of them in the kitchen, crowded around the note Mrs Hudson left to her boys.  
  
_I took the lovely young man downstairs because you were too busy with each other to take care of his full nappy. you're welcome to join us anytime you decide to let go of one another._

love, Mrs H.

\- how does she still boss us around while scolding and being genuinely happy for us _at the same time_ is beyond the bonds of my imagination... - John said, feeling guilt burning his cheeks.  
\- it's late... - Sherlock said out of the blue, tugging one of John's eyebrows up.  
\- your point?  
\- he's probably... sleeping or something other that children do...  
\- ...and?  
\- use your brain, John!  
John rolled his eyes at him.  
\- you mean... babies are sleeping at night... and at this fragile stage of his growth, he should sleep as much as he can...  
\- which means...?  
John grinned openly, finally seeing his point of view. he kissed Sherlock's most sensitive area behind his ear, making him shiver with pleasure.  
\- it's late, we should probably go to... _sleep_... I'm very... tired myself...  
Sherlock eagerly took his hand and pulled him back to bedroom to have a few more rounds of vigorous... sleeping.

 

Fin.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading!


End file.
